The train finally screeched to a halt.
This was the end of the railway. From here on, camels would have to carry them forward.
On the roof of the carriage, Garfield and Wang remained squatting side by side, cigars between their fingers, gazing into the distant desert.
The mortals below didn't know it yet, but both Garfield and Wang Defa did.
Their destination was very close.
The curator, drenched in sweat and courage, climbed onto the roof.
The iron plates were scorching hot. The moment his hands touched them, blisters formed instantly. He screamed, but still forced himself forward, crawling despite the burns.
Ignoring the pain, he dragged himself in front of Garfield and Wang.
"…What?" Garfield tilted his head.
The curator shakily pulled two pieces of dried fish from his pocket. They were damp with sweat and carried an unmistakable body odor.
He knelt, bowed deeply, and spoke reverently: "Great Lady Orange Cat, please accept this humble tribute."
Wang Defa covered his face.
He had seen reckless people before. He had even seen suicidal people.
But this was the first time he had seen someone treat an archmage like a normal cat… with sweaty dried fish.
As expected—
Garfield's eyes went wide. "GET OUT."
He stretched out a paw and flicked it casually toward the curator's face.
Just a paw.
The curator flew off the roof like a sack of sand.
Luckily, the train had already stopped. Otherwise, he would have fallen straight onto the tracks and died on the spot.
Clutching his face, the curator scrambled away in a panic.
Back inside the carriage, a strange burning pain spread across his cheek. He staggered to a mirror.
When he looked…
The claw mark was so deep that bone was visible.
Horror surged through him.
One had to understand, human skin wasn't exactly thick. A single swipe exposing bone meant only one thing.
That orange cat was absolutely not normal.
Lock-Nah hurried over after seeing the curator fall.
One look at the injury and his face changed. "Curator… are you swelling?"
The curator clutched his face.
"I—I'm fine," He said through clenched teeth. "Order the men to unload supplies. Leave some behind to guard the train."
"We move into the desert immediately."
"…Are you really fine?" Lock-Nah stared at the wound again.
"Go do your job!" the curator snapped. After driving Lock-Nah away, the pain finally became unbearable.
He decided to seek help. The curator entered Imhotep's compartment.
Despite himself, his eyes drifted briefly to Anck-su-namun resting nearby.
This carriage was truly exceptional. Perfect curves. An elegant S-shaped body. Luxurious headlights with a narrow exhaust. Strong displacement. Healthy engine.
If one could drive it…
He tore his gaze away quickly and approached Imhotep respectfully.
"High Priest."
Since Garfield's arrival, Imhotep had remained inside, tense and cautious. He hadn't gone out and had no idea what chaos the curator had just caused.
"What is it?" Imhotep asked.
The curator smiled painfully.
"We've reached the end of the railway. From here on, we'll rely on camels. Are you ready to depart?"
Imhotep nodded. "Yes. Anck-su-namun, prepare yourself."
Seeing Imhotep about to leave without another glance, the curator panicked and hurriedly blocked his path.
"My lord, please! I need your help."
Imhotep looked at the curator's covered face with curiosity. "…What happened?"
The curator slowly revealed the wound.
Then he knelt.
"I attempted to present a tribute to that orange cat." He said miserably. "I don't believe I deserved this punishment. I beg you to heal me."
Imhotep leaned closer.
When he saw the depth of the claw marks, his expression darkened.
"This is not something I can heal easily." He said slowly. "But first, you must tell me exactly what you did."
"It was a tribute." The curator replied weakly.
Imhotep didn't speak.
He simply stared and the pressure was overwhelming.
Finally, the curator broke.
"…I offered him two pieces of dried fish." He confessed. "That's all. I didn't think it would be so serious."
Imhotep closed his eyes.
Imhotep kicked the curator aside with naked disgust.
"Foolish mortal." He sneered. "You didn't even bother to understand who you were dealing with, and dared to deceive a divine heir with two stinking fish."
"That is blasphemy against the gods."
He glanced coldly at the wound on the curator's face. "This punishment is already light."
The curator had barely recovered his breath when Imhotep continued mercilessly,
"Unless that being personally forgives you, I will not heal you. And if you continue to insult the divine order through your stupidity…"
His voice dropped. "I may personally send you to the Kingdom of the Dead."
The curator froze.
Imhotep snorted, wrapped an arm around Anck-su-namun, and left the carriage without another glance.
Outside, Lock-Nah's organizational skills proved reliable.
Supplies were unloaded efficiently, guards were stationed, and the expedition quickly formed ranks.
Once Imhotep emerged, the group set off toward the oasis, guided by the bracelet's pull.
Everything seemed orderly.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
Elsewhere, chaos was already moving.
After their son Alex was kidnapped, Evelyn and O'Connell mobilized immediately. Their first stop was an old ally, the bearded warrior of the Pharaoh Guard.
The bearded man already knew of the curator's actions and had been quietly rallying forces.
He intended to strike, but feared Imhotep's sorcery made a direct assault impossible.
He thought of O'Connell.
O'Connell, at the same time, thought of him.
The decision was instant.
Rescue the boy. Deal with Imhotep, if possible.
As for Jonathan, under the bearded man's reminder, they finally realized something shocking:
The weapon Jonathan carried… was the only thing capable of killing the Scorpion King.
Surprise?
Accident?
Unfortunately, at the edge of the desert oasis, fate played a cruel joke.
They ran directly into Imhotep's group… along with Garfield and his companions.
Old friends reunited.
Imhotep smiled.
Then immediately ordered them seized. Soon after, O'Connell, Evelyn, Jonathan, and Alex were reunited.
Alex recounted everything he had experienced.
Evelyn was shaken.
She had spent her life obsessed with archaeology, tombs, and ancient gods, but never once had she considered that Norse gods were real.
And that Odin's third son…
…was an orange cat.
Even if he was only a godson.
Evelyn's gaze drifted to the distance. Garfield squatted calmly atop a camel, expression lazy, aura oppressive.
After hesitating, she quietly left the group and approached him.
Garfield sensed her immediately. He turned his large face toward her.
"What do you want?" He asked in fluent English.
Evelyn made an awkward, half-reverent gesture. It looked disturbingly like worship.
"Greetings," She said carefully. "Great son of Odin."
"Speak." Garfield nodded slowly.
Evelyn pointed toward Imhotep. "Why don't you eliminate that evil high priest?"
"You mean Imhotep?" Garfield asked.
"Yes."
Garfield spread his paws.
"That's an internal matter for the Egyptian gods. I'm an outsider. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to interfere."
Evelyn frowned. "Then you're just going to stand by and watch him obtain Anubis's power and destroy the world?"
"Destroy the world?"
Garfield reached out and lightly patted Evelyn's stunned face.
"Listen carefully," He said lazily. "If Imhotep destroys the world, he destroys the world."
He leaned closer, smiling. "And you, you'll have to find a way to stop him."
Then he waved a paw dismissively.
"I won't help you."
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream